


Turtle Trouble

by IcedLemonade



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Transformation, Crime Fighting, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Turtles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22846312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcedLemonade/pseuds/IcedLemonade
Summary: A very self-indulgent fic in which Batman is transformed into a turtle.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 32
Kudos: 221





	1. Chapter 1

Clark was in a particularly foul mood after being assigned to traffic statistics at the Daily Planet, and the attack now led by Mxyzptlk did little to ease his temper.

All traces of the mild-mannered reporter personality which he'd spent years carefully cultivating dissipated into smoke as he punched a hoard of green bats with more force than necessary, sending them flying into the stratosphere with a trail of smoke. Still irked, he fought clumsily, taking tons of easily avoidable hits, which made him even more petulant.

"Focus, Superman!" Barked Bruce from over the comms. "You're fighting like a child!"

Clark snarled and kicked at a vampire chicken. "Shut up, I'm trying to!"

The battle crawled onwards, neither side gaining the upper hand for more than a second. Bruce grimaced as he threw another smoke bomb, only to be sucked up by a giant benzene ring. In the distant, Mxyzptlk roared with laughter as he made more of those ridiculous creations materialize out of thin air.

"Oh, if only I knew what fun playing with the Justice League would be like, I'd be doing this every day!" He clapped with glee, and a swarm of hornets flew out of his palms.

Bruce watched the hornets attack a screaming Green Lantern and signed. This needs to end now, before the league gets too confused to fight back, or Mxyzptlk suddenly decides to kill just for fun. He growled into his comm. "Clark."

"A bit busy here, Batman!" Clark snapped into his ear. Bruce tried not to recoil; he'd never seen the man of steel so annoyed before. He signed and tried again. "Clark. Come here at once. Just because you're the leader of the Justice League doesn't mean you can act like an idiot."

That got him. A second later, a dishevelled and red-faced kryptonian was standing in front of Bruce, trying to appear confident but failing miserably. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?! You still haven't gotten Mxyzptlk to say his name backwards after 34 minutes! And you fight as if it's your first day as a superhero, so, I ask you, what's wrong?"

Clark winced at the scolding and looked at his feet. "I guess I wasn't in the best mood today..."

"Well that can wait. Always prioritise the mission before your own personal feelings." Bruce flared, crossing his arms defiantly. "Take care of Mxyzptlk, or else."

"Wha-Why are you threatening me? And by the way, who's the person obsessed with contingency plans?"

Bruce glowered. "You think I have contingency plans for-" He gestured wildly to the chaos surrounding them, then more specifically at a super-powered unicorn trying to stab Wonder Woman. "-for this?!"

"Well, yes." Clark said simply.

Bruce glared at him for the hundredth time since the attack started. For some reason, the more he did that, the less Clark was affected, as if repeated exposure to the batglare helped him gain immunity towards its devastating effects.

Bruce was also aware of this, and it bothers him. Then Clark grinned, a huge toothy grin which encapsulates all the solar power ever to reach Earth, and Bruce felt the air leave his lungs in one swift exhale.

"Don't worry Bruce, I'm feeling better now. I'll take care of Mxyzptlk!" Clark said, still grinning like an idiot, then took off to the skies in pursuit.

"I'm sure you will..." Bruce muttered, confused on the sudden change in mood of his best friend. He silently filed away a theory that the man of steel has bipolar disorder to the back of his brain, before returning to the battle with Clark's smile etched into his mind.

As for Superman, he was doing great. The real reason why he was suddenly so energetic was because of Bruce's batglare, which he'd found adorable all of a sudden, not that he'd ever admit it, for the sake of being brutally murdered by the Bat. He punched through a dozen of Mxyzptlk's preposterous creations, and finally came face-to-face with the trouble maker.

"Aha, Superman, good to see you!" Mxyzptlk slurred, leaning on a turquoise cloud and sipping on a bottle of whisky. "Enjoying the party?"

"Not quite." Clark put on what he hoped was a disapproving look and crossed his arms. "This needs to stop now."

"Party-pooper." Mxyzptlk frowned comically, then noticed Clark's stern expression and burst into laughter. "HHAHAAHAHAHAA YOUR FACE!!"

"What's wrong with my face?" Clark frowned and unconsciously reached up to touch his cheek.

"Oh, don't worry Sooperman, I'll fix it for you!" Mxyzptlk snapped his fingers, and Clark suddenly felt a prickly addition to his upper lip.

Mxyzptlk shrieked out and doubled over, roaring with laughter. Confused, Clark felt his face, then noticed a moustache sprouting from where originally laid smooth and unblemished skin. “What the-”

As Clark fussed over his new appearance, Bruce silently crept up behind the pair, a syringe loaded with sleeping agent in hand. He only wished that Mxyzptlk was distracted enough not to notice his advance.

With an experienced flick, he threw the syringe at the unsuspecting villain perfectly, but wasn’t fast enough to dodge the counter-attack at the last second. Before he knew what’d happened, he was flung to the far end, hit the beam of a building and collapsed onto the ground.

“Batman!” Clark shouted and rushed over. “Oh my god Bruce, are you okay? I’m sorry for hesitating and... wait...” He stared at the smoking batsuit in front of him, unoccupied yet intact. Bruce was nowhere to be seen.

“Bruce, this isn’t funny. Come out now so we can we can take Mxyzptlk away.” No answer except the rustling wind.

Perplexed, Clark tried homing in on Bruce’s heartbeat, and was welcomed by unnerving silence.

“Bruce, where are you? I... I can’t hear you...” Clark tried not to panic as he scanned the area, tried not to break down as he dug through the layers of earth, hoping to catch a glimpse of his best friend. His hands worked mechanically as they tore through the soil, tears already threatening to drench his suit.

A nudge to his side brought his attention back. Heaving with breath, he wiped his eyes, silently composing himself. Finally, he turned around to see, not his teammates, but... a turtle?


	2. Chapter 2

The turtle nudged him a second time, and when Clark gave no visible response, bit his calves, and immediately hissed upon contact with the invulnerable skin.

Clark stared at the tiny turtle, eyes wide with disbelief. It stared back with perfectly round and unblinking eyes.

“...Bruce?”

It bobbed its head once, glared at the rumpled batsuit at the corner, then back at Clark.

“Oh my god...” Without thinking, Clark scooped up the turtle and hugged it as tightly as he can without breaking its shell. It fit perfectly into his palm. “I thought I’d lost you...”

The turtle, or rather, Bruce, puffed at the display of sentimentality.

Finally, Clark had to end the hug as Bruce started clawing at his hands, but he couldn’t stop himself from stroking its head, which earned him another hiss. Absent-mindedly, he began to pet its dark shell, the mission all forgotten.

“Kal!” Diana’s commanding voice rang out, yanking him back to reality. He looked up and saw the Justice League heading their direction. He glanced at the turtle nestled comfortably in his palm, and had a sudden migraine on how to explain this to the league.

Diana’s attention first fell onto the abandoned batsuit. Her eyes widened, and was just about to voice out the worst when Hal guffawed loudly and pointed at Clark’s face. He rose a questioning eyebrow, then remembered that he still had the moustache on him.

“Supes, what happened to your face!” Hal laughed hysterically.

Diana was not amused. “How can you be more concerned about Superman’s face, rather than the safety of our teammates?” The others nodded solemnly in response.

Hal, apparently, didn't catch the memo. He did notice Superman’s new acquaintance though. “Oh hey, little guy! Did Clark save you?” He grinned, leaning forward to pet Bruce on the head.

Surprisingly, Bruce let himself be pet, and even extended his neck further for Hal to tickle it. Clark felt increasingly jealous, until he spotted a tiny claw making its way towards Hal’s ring.

_Of course_. Clark smiled in relief. Soon, Hal’s suit vaporized away in a puff of green, and everyone except Clark was surprised when they found the ring held securely between Bruce’s front legs.

Before anyone could react, Clark explained. “I know, you’re probably not going to believe this, but-”

“That fucking turtle is Batman!” Hal screamed, face red with disbelief. “It’s like the first time I met him! What the F-” Barry quickly covered his mouth, muffling out a long line of profanities.

“Well, yes. Thanks Hal.” Clark quirked a smile. If turtles could smirk, the one in his hand definitely wore the biggest smirk in the entirety of history right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Reference for turtle Bruce :D](https://www.flickr.com/photos/michiganherper/7352462184/in/photostream)


	3. Chapter 3

Back in the Watchtower, Bruce the turtle was the centre of attention. Clark gave up trying to shoo his teammates away from the grouchy turtle, and attempted calling Alfred for the sixth time in an hour.

After twenty rings, he finally picked up. "Mr Kent, is anything wrong?" Alfred inquired.

Now that he's finally listening, Clark didn't know where to begin. "Well... How are you doing, Alfred?" And felt utterly idiotic the second it left his mouth.

He could feel the butler's eyebrows raising through the phone. "I'm fine, thank you very much. In fact, I'm on vacation right now. Is there another reason as to why you insisted on calling me and interrupting my reading?"

"Uh..." Clark glanced over to Bruce, who was trying to escape from Flash, only to be caught a second later. "...Did you see the news on Mxyzptlk?"

"Why yes I did. The Justice League took him out...is something wrong?" A hint of concern dripped into Alfred's voice.

"Not exactly..."

"Is Master Bruce alright?" Alfred was sounding increasingly worried. "He's not injured, is he?"

"No, he's fine.”

"I... don't understand. What happened?”

"I know, just... please don't hang up after this." Clark took a deep breath and steadied his voice. He didn't want any hint of amusement to give him away. "Bruce was turned into a turtle."

Alfred stayed silent for such a long time that Clark thought he'd hung up. "Uh, Alfred?"

After an eternity of awkward silence, Alfred finally responded, surprisingly calm. "If that's the case, then it'll be best if you take care of Master Bruce for the time being."

Clark had to punch himself twice to make sure his ears were functioning properly. "Me? But..."

"I told you, I'm on vacation, and Master Bruce would hate it if I were to end it prematurely just to take care of him. Besides, he trusts you. I'm certain that you will enjoy each other's company until the curse is reversed." Alfred stated factually.

"Uh...I'm not quite sure..." Clark glanced over to the monitors, where Bruce was threatening to activate the contingency plans against the league members if they came any closer. "It's just... I don't know how to keep turtles, much less a turtle with Bruce's temper... What if he kills me after all this?! "

Alfred let out a small laugh. "Nonsense. You'll get along wonderfully. Bruce is too fond of you to kill you."

Clark reddened unconsciously. "He...he likes me?"

"Of course, though he'd never admit it. Now then, I must return to my book. Is there anything else, Mr Kent?"

"Um... not at all..."

"Wonderful. Remember to send me pictures!" And then he hung up, leaving behind a very flustered Superman.

Replaying the conversation in his mind, Clark wondered: did Bruce like him? The way that Alfred brought it up so casually suggested that it was no secret either. If it was true, that Bruce really liked him... He found himself grinning like an idiot again. Somehow that always happens whenever he thought of his best friend.

"Activate Protocol number A401." The Watchtower security systems suddenly blared, wrenching Clark back from his daydream. Already, several hidden cannons within the room whirred to life, slowly training their aim onto a very confused Flash.

"Disable attack!" Clark yelled, causing the ominous machinery to retreat back into the walls. Heaving a sign of relief, he rushed over to Barry, who had only begun to realise that he somehow fucked up.

"What the hell did you do to Batman?" Clark asked, with more humour than authority.

Barry looked perplexed. "I was only trying to bop his nose! My turtles love it when I do that. Well actually, not turtles, tortoises."

"Yes, but Bruce is not one of your tortoises." He went over and picked Bruce up, who didn't offer too much resistance except for a tired hiss. "Now then, I should be going home and, um, taking care of him." He stated, hoping that everyone would leave them alone.

But then, minding one's business was never in the Justice League handbook, and Clark immediately found himself surrounded by questions, most of which consists of why him, but not the others. "It's not fair, I wanna keep him!" Hal protested. "And I promise I'll keep my ring safe!"

J'onn, who was silent for the whole incident, finally spoke. And when he did, he got everyone's undivided attention at once. "I think it's best if Superman takes care of Batman right now. After all, Batman trusts him the most."

Clark nodded a silent thanks to J'onn. "Don't worry guys, I'll keep you updated." Free from further questions, he made a break for the teleporter, his hold on Bruce particularly gentle.

* * *

That night, Clark's phone was bombarded by hundreds of messages from the new group chat, TOOTLE, mainly demanding for an update or a photo of Bruce. Flash would occasionally send pictures of his tortoises, then asking when he could bring them over. Aquaman would send thousand-word-long paragraphs of turtle behaviour, their diet, and needs, which no one pays attention to but Clark. Hal would send memes, like always.

In the limited space of his apartment, Clark let Bruce roam wherever he wanted, since he always escapes from any containment within half an hour, usually seething with anger. However, he particularly likes brooding next to the window, where there is plentiful sunlight to bask in.

He also loves swimming all of a sudden.

Silently weeping for his water bills, Clark filled the entire bath tub with warm water, then plopped Bruce in. He took off like a bullet, making several energetic laps around the sides before surfacing, blinking with excitement.

Chuckling, Clark petted him fondly on the head. This time, Bruce didn't hiss. "Aren't you just adorable."

In a split second, the grumpy deposition returned with full force. Bruce growled and dived into the tub, then began to brood at a corner, his back turned.

Clark watched the swishing tail absent-mindedly. He was thinking about bringing Bruce to work tomorrow, as he needed to make sure he wouldn't escape without his watch. His colleagues would question it, yes, but no one would be as delusional as to suspect that Batman was secretly a turtle, right? Plus, he'll get to play with Bruce all day.

He grinned to himself. This was the best opportunity he'd ever received.


	4. Chapter 4

Clark woke up the next morning with delight, and not only because his terrible moustache was gone. He was going to ~~kidnap~~ bring Bruce to work!

He went to the bathroom, and was not surprised to see Bruce still brooding at the bottom of the tub. Fast asleep, he shrunk completely into his shell, almost like a mysterious piece of rock that'd somehow ended up in Superman's bath tub. The only evidence that he wasn't a rock were the small bubbles of air which occasionally emerged, breaking the peaceful water surface.

Clark almost felt bad for waking Bruce, except he was still dreaming even when Clark dried him and put him into his breast pocket, ready to go to work. It was only until he was halfway to the Daily Planet did Bruce finally stir.

A tiny head appeared from Clark's pocket, observing the world around it with curiosity. Its wandering gaze swept across the chattering crowds, the blinking streetlights, the poorly paved roads, before finally settling on its captor, narrowing with realization.

As if sensing Bruce's glare directed at him, Clark petted his pocket and grinned, doing little to calm the fuming turtle down. "Don't worry, I just need to keep an eye on you."

Bruce huffed indignantly, but soon sulked back into the warmth of Clark's pocket.

He smiled. The day was already going great.

* * *

He let Bruce go wherever he wanted on his desk, not that he could ever go far enough to escape Superman's sights. Bruce originally spent half an hour being a rock next to the computer, but curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to go explore.

Bruce crawled along the desk, frowning at the messy chaos. Files were all stacked in one giant block, memo pads stuck on every available space, and not to mention stationery rolling around like escaped sheep. He groaned, or, to put it a better way, the turtle equivalent of the sound. How can Clark work in all this?

Well, there was nothing he could do as a turtle anyways, except staring up at Clark and admiring his cheekbones at a newfound angle. So, he began to dig - literally and metaphorically - through Clark's stuff, hoping to find something remotely interesting to pass his time.

Clark chuckled as the turtle started viciously attacking his pile of writing pads. "I doubt you'll find anything in there. They are all scraps."

A few minutes later, he changed his mind completely on that statement. When he saw Bruce inspecting a crumpled-up piece of paper with Batman fanart on it, Clark was worried, but not too much. Then he saw that it wasn't just some Batman fanart, but it was his re-design of the batsuit, involving boob windows and thigh-high boots.

In a rush of panic, he snatched the paper in super speed and tossed it into the bin, not caring who saw him. "Oh fuck... you weren't supposed to see that..." He gritted, rethinking all his life choices. Face crimson with embarrassment, he sneaked a look at Bruce. His posture gave nothing away, but the dark pupils twinkled with something like... amusement?

"Did Smallville just swear?" Lois leaned in, chuckling as she bumped Clark's shoulder. Her eyes fell on Bruce, who was staring daggers at the place where she'd just touched Clark. "OH MY GOD He's so cute!"

Before Clark could stop her, Lois immediately went ahead and bopped Bruce on the nose, oblivious to the fog of hostility surrounding the dark turtle. Clark screwed his eyes shut. This was not going to end well.

Instead of shrinking into his shell like a normal turtle, or ripping her hand apart like what Batman would have done, Bruce glared at the offending finger with all the scorn and spite a turtle his size could muster, staring it down like a D-list villain, until Lois was unsettled enough to back away.

"That's... some turtle you've got there, Smallville." Lois laughed nervously. "Did you see his look? For a second there I thought he was going to bite my finger!"

Clark let out a breath he didn't realize he's been holding in for a while now. "Yeah, he's... pretty moody."

"Well, I guess I'll leave you guys alone then..." Lois took one last appraising look at the turtle, then fled.

"Do you have to scare her off like that?" Clark signed. "It's just Lois."

Bruce clucked, obviously pleased with himself.

"You know what..." Clark suddenly remembered that he'd stashed other questionable art works somewhere around his desk. "How about you go for a walk? You need to calm down while I... tidy up."

He scooped Bruce up, and was taken aback when he tried to burrow himself deeper into his palm, as if he yearned to be held like this, enveloped by Clark's strong hands. The cool shell was a great contrast to his permanently hot palms. It was refreshing, yet filled him with warmth, knowing that Bruce trusted him so much.

He put Bruce into a Fed-Ex box, then proceeded to rid his desk of all Batman-related drawings. After all, there are some things that are much worse to be found there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of those fanarts may or may not contain explicit superbat.


	5. Chapter 5

After work, Clark decided to go shopping for turtle supplies. Who knows how long the transformation would last anyways. He skimmed through Arthur's advice on the group chat. Bruce was a bog turtle, and they mainly feed on small insects, which even someone with superior vision like Clark had trouble finding in the local supermarket. He tried grabbing a bag of worms intended as bait for fishing, but immediately retracted his hand when a long and threatening hiss sounded from deep within his breast pocket.

Knowing Bruce, he'd certainly stab him with kryptonite if Clark bought turtle food for him. He signed, abandoning both his mission and his pride, and took Bruce out from his pocket, holding him in front of his chest.

"Nod once for yes, twice for no." He said simply, and held Bruce in front of some freshly baked donuts.

Bruce sniffed cautiously at it, then turned to glare incredulously at Clark.

"I'll take that as a no." Clark moved on to the next potential food item, ignoring questioning stares from other customers. He stopped in front of the pizza counter. Everyone loves pizza, there's no reason as to why Bruce wouldn't.

A firm double nod. "Oh, come on! You can't be serious, it's pizza!" Clark shouted, motioning at the slices with much more finger pointing than socially acceptable. Bruce merely clucked in response, then turned to look at the seafood shelf. Clark followed his gaze. "Of course. Turtles like to eat fish, why haven't I thought about that." He signed, already fearing for his wallet.

He walked over to the column of seafood, when Bruce suddenly slipped out of his grasp, falling head-first onto the freezing air-conditioned shelf. Immediately, he made a beeline for the cluster of frozen lobsters at the corner, then began inspecting each of them thoroughly.

Clark watched as Bruce sniff carefully at each lobster with the intensity of Batman on detective mode. He clambered all over the poor lobsters, slipped on one then flipped backwards onto his shell. As he struggled to get himself upright, Clark felt a tap on his shoulder.

It was a staff from the supermarket. "Sir, is that turtle yours?"

"Yes, I know, he's a picky eater." Clark smiled apologetically.

The staff eyed Bruce warily. "I'm sorry sir, but I must ask you and your friend here to leave." She said, surprisingly composed even when a turtle is contaminating every lobster in the supermarket right in front of her eyes.

"Right, sorry." Hurriedly, Clark picked Bruce back up, who was obviously dissatisfied with the turn of events. He hissed menacingly at the staff.

Unfazed, she began guiding them towards the exit, all the while keeping a close eye on the grumpy turtle. Needless to say, she stood by the gates guarding it to make sure the two were long gone, before heading back in to sterilize the lobsters.

"Well," Clark signed dejectedly when they were finally out of earshot, "We could always try somewhere else."

Bruce gave a tiny yawn. The cold environment of the seafood shelf made him tired and left a lingering desire to hibernate. Unconsciously, he burrowed deeper into Clark's hands, sleep already threatening to take over his senses.

Clark looked at the curled-up turtle in his hands. Maybe he could try cooking instead.

He took a U-turn and headed back to his apartment.

* * *

He managed to cook a decent meal, a seafood-themed spaghetti. He used canned sardines, as they were the only food remotely related to seafood in his worn-down kitchen. Bruce was more or less awake by the time dinner was served, and watched Clark eat with a half-lidded eye.

Clark pushed a small plate of spaghetti towards the sleepy turtle. "I tried my best." He smiled.

Slowly, Bruce crawled towards the plate, then began munching on a strand of spaghetti, but leaving the sardines untouched.

"Really. I thought you like a bit of seafood." Clark huffed. "So, how does Batman the grumpy food critic think of my cooking?"

Bruce gave no acknowledgement, but continued munching his spaghetti with clear focus.

Clark watched him eat for a few minutes, enthralled by the cuteness, until Bruce suddenly snapped his head up to glower at him. Clark smiled sheepishly. "Well...I'll go work on my article then."

Bruce huffed, and went back to eating.

The evening went by quietly, accompanied by the occasional shuffling of feet and the typing of keyboards. Clark was still working on that dreaded traffic statistics report, which he'd struggled ever since starting it. The report was supposedly due tomorrow, but even Perry pitied him enough that he was given an extension.

Clark leaned back onto his chair and yawned loudly. Nobody reads traffic statistics anyways, why is he still writing this, when he could be hanging out with Bruce instead?

Excited by the thought itself, he dashed over to the bathroom, where Bruce had already filled the tub with warm water and swimming leisurely around without a care in the world. Upon noticing Clark, he paddled over, leaning at the edge of the tub, and stared up with ridiculously round eyes.

Clark couldn't help himself. His hand moved forward on its own accord, and bopped Bruce on the nose.

He expected Bruce to hiss, or even snap at his hand. Bruce, however, did the unthinkable and stretched his neck further.

Needless to say, it was a surprise, albeit a very welcoming one. Internally dying from all the cuteness, he stroked his head, slowly and gently as not to scare Bruce. Then his hand travelled further, reaching down to his neck, and Bruce made a sound so unlike Batman that Clark immediately retreated his hand.

"Did...did you just..." Clark stammered, his mouth agape in shock, "Did you just purr??"

Bruce blinked innocently as if that answers all the questions in the universe.

Clark was completely lost for words, yet he continued petting Bruce, his love and adoration for him stronger than the shock from finding out that Bruce had actually purred because of him. He considered sending an update to the group chat before realizing that Batman will most certainly end him in unfathomably painful ways if he ever finds out, and despite his constant self-sacrificing acts, he was in no hurry to die.

So, he kept stroking Bruce's shell until he fell asleep yet again. Gently, he put him back into the tub of water, then started getting ready for sleep himself.

However, no one ever told him that the nights of Metropolis can get quite nippy (not that he can feel it), and that turtles were cold-blooded. As Clark drifted into sleep, Bruce started to awaken.

* * *

Bruce woke feeling numb all over. Gingerly, he stretched his legs out, and immediately retracted them back into his shell for how _cold_ the water was. He blinked once, gathering his surroundings. The last thing he remembered, Clark was petting him, then he fell asleep. How did he end up in a tub of freezing water?

He shivered. No matter how he got here, he need to get out now before he froze to death. Desperately, he started paddling upwards, while trying to remember his training for conversing body heat. Unfortunately, they only seem to work for endotherms. His body simply lacks the physiological mechanisms to heat itself up.

Finally, he reached the water surface, and immediately recoiled as a gust of wind hit him in the face. He glared at the open window with disdain. He'll fix that after he's turned back. Now, he need to warm up.

He plummeted from the tub, falling for a great distance in proportional to body size, and felt somewhere on his shell crack upon impact with the cold marble tiles of the bathroom floor. He grimaced in pain and tried to survey the wound, but couldn't, because of the limited mobility of his reptilian limbs.

His joints screamed from the cold, his muscles were sore and ready to give out any second. But slowly and surely, he began crawling towards the only reliable source of heat in the area, Clark.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter was shorter than usual! I'll try to finish it before this week.   
>  (。・`ω´・)

Clark's dreams consisted entirely of cute turtles tonight. He watched in amazement as one particularly fluffy one slid up his arm, before morphing into a giant pillow, comfortably supporting his heavy head. The floor then heaved and folded inwards onto itself, slowly turning into a vaguely shell-like object, covering his body like a giant blanket. In the distance, turtle-shaped clouds floated across the sky, peppering the clear Metropolis horizon like cotton candy. He relaxed into the soft blankets and signed with content.

Suddenly, without warning, an icy drop of water fell from the sky and hit his arm, rudely interrupting the tranquillity. He turned to glare at the droplet, and found that it has already frozen solid. Even stranger, the blob of ice seemed to have a mind of its own, crawling up his forearm until finally resting on his neck. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop the intrusion, much less touch it. Puzzled, he didn't even notice when the background started fading away into grey, signalling the end of a dream and the start of an inevitable wakening.

He jerked awake, and frowned in disappointment. That was a very nice dream, except the part when the water hit him. _Oh well, I hope the dream can continue if I fall asleep right now,_ he thought blurrily, then realized that his neck was still cold. _Maybe it's just a lingering effect of the dream?_

Except that the longer he stayed awake, the coldness on his neck became more noticeable, until he was fully awake and utterly annoyed. Groaning with sleep inertia, he reached up to feel his neck, and felt the smooth texture of a shell.

Clark felt it shift upon contact, then tiny claws scratching against his skin to burrow deeper into the warm crook of his neck.

"...Bruce? What are you doing here?" Clark muttered; voice still heavy with sleep.

Bruce didn't reply, but then Clark heard a small sniff, otherwise unnoticeable unless you had super hearing. He immediately sat up straight, cradling the stoic turtle in his hands. It was very unresponsive, even for someone like Batman.

Any traces of sleep vanished in an instance when Clark noticed a crack on Bruce's shell, a perfect split across the middle. "Oh shi-" He bolted towards the living room, gently set Bruce on the table, and grabbed a tube of superglue on the counter. He read about people gluing turtles back with it before, but didn't delve deep enough to know whether it was actually safe. However, no time to lose now.

With enough tenderness to move a cloud without displacing it, he lifted Bruce, and squeezed a line of glue along the crack, holding the shell in place until the glue is completely dry. Bruce was still curled up with eyes squeezed shut, but at least he was no longer in danger of falling apart anymore.

Clark let out a breath. He put his hand over Bruce, completely covering the tiny turtle, and was struck by a sudden moment of realization.

Bruce had come to him when he was freezing, when he was hurt, instead of trying to fix himself up like how he always did.

Clark smiled warmly and looked down at the turtle, still cool against his palms. A bubbling sense of joy travelled along his arms and converged around his heart, before bursting into a firework of rainbows within his thoracic cavity, filling him with jubilation. Bruce came to him for help. Few people in the world apart from Alfred was given this special treatment.

The moment was rudely interrupted when Clark’s ears perked up from a cry for help. There was an earthquake on the other side of the planet. Although being Superman was his passion, this was really not a good time. Still, he quickly changed into his suit. Before heading out, he wrapped Bruce in layers of blankets, hoping that it would keep him warm before he came back, and settled him onto his couch.

Nevertheless, he couldn't resist taking a picture of Bruce, who's snoozing away snugly swaddled with soft blankets like a California roll. He quickly sent the picture to the group chat, then flew off to save the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't superglue your turtles.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mom: what are you writing  
> Me: turtles  
> Mom: *thinking that it's my biology assignment* ok cool

The Earthquake in Japan wasn't particularly serious, which was a relief, because that means Clark could return back home to Bruce sooner. Throughout the rescue, he could only think about Bruce, and how he couldn't wait to see him again. On his way back, he made a detour to a pet store in Tokyo and got a bag full of turtle supplies and lobsters, only because people gave him stuff for free whenever he was dressed up as Superman.

He peeked at the bulky bag hanging by his side. There was a tube of epoxy glue specially for cracked turtle shells in it, so that he could fix Bruce's shell properly this time. Also in the bag was an enclosure with Bat decorations, which he got solely to see Bruce's reaction.

He landed on the windowsill of his apartment, and clicked the windows open. Almost fell over at the sight in front of him.

There, curled up on his couch, cheeks rosy with heat, was a gloriously naked Bruce Wayne, fully human, with nothing but a layer of blankets wrapped around his torso. Dark hair stuck mesmerizingly to his sweat-speckled forehead, and his bare chest rose and fell rhythmically in tandem with his strong heartbeat. The usually furrowed brows were entirely relaxed, and his pink lips which were almost always drawn into a scowl was slightly parted. Fanned lashes shaded his eyes, giving a peaceful sense of tranquillity. Clark felt like he was seeing another part of Bruce, and not just physically.

Softly, he put the bag down, and carried Bruce in his arms bridal style back to his bedroom. Trying not to get aroused by this task was near impossible, and by the time he'd tucked Bruce into his bed, he was already fully hard. To be honest, the moment his hands touched bare skin, warm and soft against his hands, he knew that he'd lost already.

Bruce didn't even stir, continuing his deep sleep as if it was what he was born to do.

Clark stared at the peaceful figure for a whole minute before snapping back to his senses. He'd have to sleep on the couch tonight, even though he wanted nothing more than to hug Bruce against his chest right this moment, but he knew that if he got into the same bed as Bruce, he would completely lose it.

He slumped onto the couch in the living room, and tried not to think of Bruce's gorgeous body as he drifted off.

* * *

A crash from the bedroom startled Clark awake, followed by a muffled curse. Scrambling to his feet, he grabbed some clothes at the side and rushed over to his bedroom door. Mentally prepared himself to face Batman's wrath.

Instead of a furious Bat, a very confused Bruce Wayne stepped out, cocking his head in question.

Clark was prepared for kryptonite being hurled at his head, but he was never prepared to see the person he'd been crushing on for the past year waltz out from his bedroom like an entitled prince without a shred of clothing on. His eyes immediately darted to the ceiling, and awkwardly handed over the pile of clothes. "Here, you might... uh..."

He didn't need to look at Bruce to know that he was quirking an eyebrow, but took the clothes nevertheless, and went inside to change.

Clark heaved a sigh of relief, then noticed that he was getting hard. Again.

"Oh, nononono stop that, you..." He muttered to his crouch, suddenly hoping that Kryptonian physiology includes body appendages that can understand speech. "Get back down, you idiot, Bruce will kill me if he sees me having a boner..." A fleeting image of Bruce lying naked the night before suddenly flashed across his head, and his erection sprang to life.

"Not helping!" He hissed, then heard the bedroom door click. He bolted behind the dining table before Bruce came out, hiding his bulge along the edges.

"Oh, hi Bruce." He said, as nonchalantly as he could.

Bruce didn't even notice Clark's weird positioning, and started rambling off about how he'd get back to Gotham. "...Alfred's still gone for the week, and Bruce Wayne can't possibly be seen out and about in Metropolis without any travel records... The batplane is more viable, but it'll draw too much attention..." He trailed off, staring out at the window for a brief moment. "Of course, I can return as Batman. But I don't have the suit right now..."

He turned to Clark, finally noticing the other man's unease. "Can you bring the batsuit for me?" He said with half a smirk.

"I-uh... sure! Of course." Clark stammered, blushing furiously under those intense eyes. He stood there awkwardly before realizing that Bruce wanted his suit _now_. "Well... I'll get going then..."

"Thanks." Bruce smiled softly, and Clark felt all the air leave his lungs in one swift exhale.

He zoomed out the window before he went insane.

* * *

Clark didn't see Bruce for a whole week since he returned to Gotham, the only indicator that he was still alive were the text messages discussing about keeping a pet turtle. Clark was full on board the idea, as he wanted desperately to use those supplies which he'd gotten from Japan, especially the bat enclosure.

The week crawled by, with Clark missing Bruce every second of the day. His pocket felt empty without Bruce in it, his days at the office boring without a grumpy turtle scaring away everyone who got close enough. So, when Batman announced a Justice League meeting to be held two days later, Clark was already itching with excitement.

When the day finally came, Clark was already impatiently seated in the meeting room, two hours before the actual start time. One after another, the league members came in, each bursting with questions about turtle Bruce.

Hal was among the first. "So, how did spooky react when he turned back?" He grinned. "Did he punch you? Or did he escape immediately?"

"Not really, he just appeared confused." Clark said.

"He wasn't wearing anything, right?"

"Well..." A blush sneaked up Clark's neck, and Hal grinned wider.

"Oh my god, imagine if he turned back at work!"

"I... didn't think it through." Clark admitted.

"That'll make one hell of a cover story." Hal sniffed. "Pity I wasn't there. Guess I'll just have to settle with his GQ photoshoots then."

"Uh." Clark wasn't sure to feel jealous or aroused when the image of Bruce's famous nude photoshoots popped up in his head. Probably the latter.

Barry came zooming in, hands full of hamburgers. "Supes!" He exclaimed, and immediately rushed to a seat next to Clark, pushing Hal out of the way with a gust of wind. "How have you been!"

"I'm fine. Thank y-"

"How's bat turtle?? Did he bite anyone? Did he try to escape? Did he threaten you with kryptonite? Did he-" Barry stopped abruptly when Clark raised his hands.

"No, no, and no-" He barely even finished talking before Barry started chattering off again.

"What did he eat? Did he eat turtle food?" Barry's eyes went wide.

"Actually, he uh..." Clark stopped mid-sentence when Bruce finally came in, his cape flaring out behind, sending the rest of the members scattering back to their seats. Clark raised an eyebrow. Bruce had redesigned his suit, again. The bat symbol was slightly different this time. How many suits did he have?

He continued admiring the new suit as Bruce went on to prepare for the presentation, oblivious to his staring. The cape was shinier, the gauntlets had a few more spikes. Then his eyes travelled lower. Immediately snapped back up in shock.

"Supes? You ok?" Barry inquired, noticed him freezing up.

"Uh, I'm fine..." He stuttered. Face heating up enough to rival that of his heat vision, his gaze slowly shifted back down. He thought he was hallucinating when he first saw it, but now he was one hundred percent sure that he is not insane. He's not sure about Bruce, though.

Because he was wearing those incredibly silly yet sexy thigh-high boots that Clark had doodled.

As if sensing his blushing, Bruce turned around and gave him a very un-Batman-like smirk.

Clark felt light-headed for the entire meeting, his attention focused solely on Bruce's new boots. He didn't even listen to half of the presentation, and when he did, it was all a jumble of background noise, a distraction from those beautiful boots, which seemed to bring out those muscled thighs instead of shadowing them.

The meeting went by a haze. One by one, the league members left the room, partly because they were itching to leave and go somewhere less boring, mostly because Bruce was giving them all the batglare. He strolled over and sat down next to Clark, swinging his legs over the conference table like it was the most natural thing to do in the world. Clark tensed, already feeling another boner coming up.

"So," Bruce started.

"...So?" Clark echoed.

"You weren't listening at all." Bruce stated. If he was amused, he was doing a very poor job at hiding it.

"I... I got distracted." Clark admitted, finally having enough strength to look Bruce in the eye.

Bruce's eyes bore into Clark's, icy blue clashing against sapphire. "Someone cried for help?" He asked innocently.

Clark couldn't help but roll his eyes. "It's your new suit. It's distracting me."

"Really. Because no one else seemed to have this problem." Bruce's grinned.

"To be honest, they probably didn't even notice it." Clark said.

Bruce only shrugged in response. "It was much better than the old designs. The Kevlar was able shield more places at once."

"You should have included the boob window." Clark joked.

"That would be highly impractical." Bruce frowned, then made a thoughtful sound. "Do you have more of those designs at the Daily Planet?"

Clark swallowed. "No...?"

"Shame, I would love to see what other designs you've got." Bruce smirked. "Maybe your fashion sense aren't just plaid shirts and oversized trousers."

"Nope." Clark answered way too quickly, which only piqued Bruce's interest. "No, I'm not showing them to you. Ever."

Bruce made a face of mock disappointment.

Clark almost went ahead and squished Bruce's face for how adorable he was. Almost.

"Well." Nonchalantly, Bruce swung his legs off the table. Clark's gaze, as if on command, immediately shifted back down to those boots.

"Alfred's coming back later." Bruce said, and for the first time Clark's ever saw him, he looked hesitant.

"That's nice." Clark swallowed, still staring shamelessly at Bruce's thighs.

"He's making cookies to celebrate me turning back to human." Bruce shuffled his feet. "I thought maybe you'd like to join us?"

Any remaining sense of doubt vanished in an instance. "Yes, of course! I-" He stuttered at Bruce's quirked eyebrow. "Sorry, was that too much?"

"No, it's..." Bruce smiled softly, eyes warm with amusement. "It's never too much."

Clark grinned widely. "Then it's a date?"

"It's a date." Bruce confirmed.


	8. Epilogue

Ever since the turtle incident, Clark has developed a newfound interest towards the shelled reptiles. The day after their first date at the manor, he practically dragged Bruce to the local animal shelter in search of turtles to adopt.

Clark was drawn to the snapping turtles, which by their name suggests, hisses and bites at everything.

He lifted a particularly spiky one up. "It looks like you, B."

Bruce scowled, a perfect imitation of the turtle.

Chuckling, Clark put the turtle back down. "I can't decide which one I want, they're all so cute!"

"I can buy this building, then they'll all be yours."

"I - never mind."

Bruce shrugged. "It's just second nature."

They continued scouring the centre for turtles. However, they were still unable to reach a consensus after a hour, and Bruce was getting impatient.

"I need to update some files. Are you done yet?" Bruce said, fiddling with his watch, sending some kind of Morse code with it.

"Well..." Clark's attention was fixed on a small plastic tub at the corner. Secluded and small, no one would have ever seen it if they didn't pay attention. "Wait a sec. Let me check something."

He walked over to the tub, peered inside. A baby red eared slider stared back, its shell still moist and coated with sand from hatching. It blinked at Clark, eyes round and puffy.

It was love at first sight. It didn't take long for Bruce to agree to adopt him.

"He does _not_ look like me." Bruce growled when Clark made a statement on how similar their eyes looked when Bruce was a turtle.

"Ask Alfred, he'll agree with me." Clark said.

"...You sent him photos didn't you."

"Maybe."

Bruce glared with little effect. "You're sleeping on the couch tonight."

* * *

They later found out from the adoption centre that the baby turtle was actually the victim of an unfortunate highway road accident. His parents built their nest close to the highway, and after laying down their eggs, walked out into the road, and was immediately ran over. Some volunteers found the cluster of eggs and brought them back to the shelter. Only one hatched.

Clark almost cried after hearing the story, which means Bruce was forced to eat at Clark's favourite restaurant with him until he'd cheered up. Unfortunately, Clark's favourite restaurant was McDonald's. After eating half a fry, Bruce decided that he was good to go. ("Not everyone has superior metabolism, Clark.")

After returning to the manor, the pair began setting up an area specially for the new turtle. Bruce'd cleared out an entire room, making space for Clark's bag of turtle supplies. He frowned at the bat-themed enclosure, but otherwise made no comment.

Clark was fixing UV lamps onto the ceiling when he asked, "What should we name him?"

"Any ideas?"

"How about..." Clark's face broke into a huge grin, and Bruce immediately knew what was coming next. "...Bruce?"

"No, absolutely not."

"Bats?"

"No."

"Batson?"

"No."

"Battingson?"

"Stop it. We are not naming him after me." Bruce sighed, rubbing his temples. "Let me think of a proper name and I'll tell you by this week."

Clark pouted. "Alrighty then."

* * *

Bruce panted against Clark's neck, heat already pooling around his groin. Strong hands ran down his sides, the same hands which protected and warmed him during the unfortunate incident. He shuddered as they travelled further down his waist, gasped as they squeezed his ass.

"Clar...ah" He broke off into unintelligible moans as Clark began grinding against him, pushing him into the wall behind. He squeezed his eyes shut and threw back his head, exposing his neck, which Clark gladly began sucking. "Fu-fuck...Clark...don't stop..."

His mind went completely blank as Clark pulled his pants down, and began thrusting against him in earnest. He whines and buries his head into the crook of Clark's neck, fingers clawing with enough force to scratch a normal human's skin. Shifting, Clark reached his hands behind Bruce to re-position him, then froze halfway down his back.

Bruce growled and bit Clark's earlobe, urging him to continue. " _Move_."

He didn't. "What's that on your back?"

"Not important. Move, you idiot." Bruce gritted.

Clark did, only that it wasn't the way that Bruce expected him to. Like tossing a coin, Clark easily flipped him around, giving him a clear view of his back. He ran his fingers across the scar which caught his attention, concern knitting his brows together.

"Who did this?" He asked.

"That's where you superglued me, genius." Bruce sighed, then pushed himself back, grinding his hips up against Clark's cock. "Now, if you're finished, can we please get back to where we were?"

Grinning, Clark leaned forward, tickling Bruce's ear with his breath. "As you wish."

* * *

Bruce rubbed his temples as he saw the bat computer, littered with turtle faeces.

"Master Bruce, may I suggest keeping our turtle friend strictly confined to his own room?" Alfred inquired, carrying a bottle of detergent and bleach.

"Of course. Alfred, I'll get it done later." He surveyed the batcave, and spotted the turtle leaping down from his chair, flipping twice through the air before landing perfectly onto the ground.

"He's very acrobatic, sir." Alfred remarked.

"Yes, but he's still a dick..." Bruce groaned, remembering the previous incident where the turtle has pooped all over the Wayne Enterprises reports.

"Language, Master Bruce."

"Whatever..." Bruce frowned, eyes still tracking the turtle. Then an utterly chaotic idea popped up in his head.

He sprinted off and started texting Clark.

* * *

B: How do you feel about naming our turtle Dick?

C: ...

C: Why

B: Because he's a dick.

C: Why are you like this

B: So yes or no?

C: ...yes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit I actually finished something.
> 
> Also, that smut scene was my first attempt at smut, sorry if it was cringy.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who left kudos and all the lovely comments! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it!


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